the art of cruelty
by r i d d l e1
Summary: expect more of this.
1. amused by you

instead of attending a wizarding elementary, along with all the normal wizarding kiddies, high society wizards and witches opted to school their sons and daughters in small groups, giving them useless, classical educations; private tutors were sent for from all corners of the world- strange characters possessing bizarre, often times perverse areas of expertise.  
  
  
*  
  
narcissa malfoy is sitting upon her bed, wearing a lovely pink gown not unlike those seen in a victoria secret catalogue the room is dark, despite the daylight that fights it's way through the brocade curtains. the flicker of a muggle television flashes over her captivated face in a series of bright flutters. she raises a thin arm and spoons herself a mouthful of chocolate ice-cream, watching as luke and laura finally got married.  
  
suddenly, the double doors to her expansive apartments burst open and lucius malfoy marches in, young draco in tow.  
  
"damnit, narcissa! i already asked you once! now i have had ENOUGH!"   
  
lucius sizes the mind numbing thing in his arms and carries it across the room. "draco, the curtains." he commands, and the boy darts forward, throwing them open with a flourish. he opens the window, wincing in the bright sunshine.   
  
lucius turns to face his wife. "i will stand for this no longer! i've had enough, damnit! ENOUGH!" in his fury, he stomps one foot, nearly hopping mad. "yeah!" draco chimes in, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at his mother with innocent agreement.  
  
then, lucius, grinning, promptly tosses the television out the window.  
  
  
*  
  
"has anyone thought of a name for their table yet?" the tutor asked, looking around the small class. draco raised one hand and, with the tutor's faintly permissive nod, stood up. "the young and the restless." he proclaimed, and sat down, satisfied with himself.  
none of this lot would know what it was, he assured himself, smiling. crabbe and goyle were looking at draco curiously, wondering where he's come up with such a name.  
pansy parkinson spoke up, sarcastically. "the young and the restless? what kind of a name is that? it sounds like a harlequin novel!"   
  
draco shot daggers with his his eyes at her from across the room. "shut your mouth, pansy."  
  
" it sounds like something your mum would read."  
  
draco's mouth opened, horrified. "i said shut up!"  
  
"i bet it WAS something your mum read!"  
  
"why don't you call your table THE YOUNG AND THE BREASTLESS?"  
  
pansy looked down at her flat chest and sat down. that had stung, and draco knew it. the rest of class 'ooohed' and catcalled, erupting into painful laughter that burned the girl's cheeks with an embarrassing fire.  
crabbe and goyle, along with the other boys at his table laughed and clapped him on the back, commending him for his brilliance. even the girls were laughing, whispering on about her flat chest.   
  
  
*  
  
the summer between draco's second and third year at hogwarts, draco, (crabbe and goyle in tow), had deliberately befriended a local muggle boy who went by 'covey' over the course of the summer holiday. his real name, of course, was something ordinary like john or thomas or eric, but he wouldn't allow them to call him any of *those* names.  
  
  
*  
  
"sometimes i can make things happen. i can control the weather."  
  
"really. you don't say."  
  
"and when i get mad, my eyes change color. they turn absolutely black. have you ever done magic?"  
  
draco coughed and his mouthful of soda pop was spit, fizzing and foaming, back into his cup. "you can do magic?" he asked, the hint of sheer superiority in his voice seething; and *he* could hear it, but he was sure to covey it would sound like absolute wonder.  
  
"yes, i can. but it's very complicated. i don't think you would understand. you have a very weak soul.. i practice dark magic.. and. well. it would frighten you.. well. i shouldn't be telling you this.. but. i'm a vampire."  
  
"oh. i understand." biting back his laughter, he lowered his head so covey couldn't see him grinning, nearly beside himself at the other boy's ridiculous claims.  
  
  
*  
  
"everyone.. i've brought a special guest to our party. now, i want you all to be very nice to him. he's *powerful*." he said, rolling his eyes. once covey had situated himself nervously amongst the others, draco pulled a small pipe from his pocket and waited for someone to light it. pansy leaned forward, lighting it with a whisper and a tap of her wand. once the pipe had passed him, and was working it's way around the others, he mumbled "lumos" and held it up so he could see covey's face properly in the dim light.  
  
"now, tell me more about this.. healing ability you've got. your telling me that if you cut yourself, it heals up? instantly? and that this is all part of our magic?"  
  
covey, being the poor, ignorant muggle boy that he was, somehow managed to keep his eyes on draco's face, and not the glowing wand above his head. he nodded, still playing along with the ridiculous lie he'd told draco that first day.  
  
"show me." draco said, passionately.  
  
"i don't have anything to do it with."  
  
the other boys and girls were all leaning forward now, interested in seeing this muggle boy make a fool of himself.  
  
"don't worry, *covey*. i've got a knife." he reached into his coat and pulled out a spectacular blade, handing it to covey with a smile. "go on." he encouraged warmly, grinning. "show us. we *all* want to see."  
  
covey gulped and took the knife, attempting to slice his inner forearm. he must not have realized he'd made such a great slash, because he gasped as a gaping slice appeared there, and then the blood bubbled fourth, hot and wickedly red, down the front of his pants and shoes. "oh dear." draco said, looking at covey in mock horror. "hurry, covey! heal it! oh wait.. your a *vampire*.. well drink up!" he looked at covey's arm, licking his lips sarcastically.   
  
"don't let it all go to waste!"  
  
*  
  
"the only reason i didn't heal myself was because i didn't want everyone asking me to teach them my magic secrets. when your a master of darkness such as myself, you have to be very careful.."  
  
draco coughed and didn't answer for a moment. crabbe and goyle snickered behind him, nudging eachother, trying to get the other to shut up. they were standing outside covey's cottage. "right.. well. sorry about your pants. that should come out with a bit of soap, though.. see you tomorrow?"   
  
draco left no option for more conversation, walking away with crabbe and goyle laughing madly behind him.  
  
*  
  
"oh will you BE QUIET!? we can't go waking them up.." draco sat on the porch of covey's cottage, the welcome mat having been tossed aside recklessly. he was carving a strange circle into the wood planks beneath him, using that same silver knife to make a pattern of intricate symbols, swirls and squares. beside him stood goyle, holding a jar of pig's blood and a brush. he made a series of strange markings across the front door, and in the dark they were clotted and really looked quite ominous.   
he set five candles around the circle, equally spaced, and lit them with the tip of a flaming wand. the last item from his bag was finally revealed as he set the head of a pig in the center of the circle, grinning deliciously in the faint candle light. "here.. drip some of that blood, will you?" he asked, standing up and clapping his hands free of dirt and anything else. goyle turned around and admired draco's work appreciatively, before dripping a copious amount of blood across the circle, making sure to get a little bit on the candles. droplets of cold, clotted blood slid themselves down the dead flesh of the pig's head, and it's open eyes were glazed and sick.  
  
draco stood back, smiling as he beheld what he'd created. beautiful.  
  
"right. we're finished.. let's go. oh i *do* hope the master of darkness appreciates our gift!" he said, disgusted, and hopped off the porch. they practically skipped down the dark road towards crabbe, snickering and praising one another for their genius scheme.  
  
*  
  
covey didn't want to come outside the next day. 


	2. because your so uncool

it was kind of funny, because that summer, pansy's chest finally developed.. and developed.... and then it developed a bit more!  
  
by september first she had a bust like nobody's business, lovely curves under a skirt and sweater. it pissed draco off endlessly. draco sat with crabbe and goyle, looking out the window as the train moved along the track. when pansy same into the carriage, draco couldn't believe his eyes.  
  
"are those.. oh thank *god*. your chest! it finally grew!"  
  
pansy laughed. "they're so huge! it's like i cursed you."  
  
"i know!" she agreed, laughing. she seated herself beside him.  
  
"are they real?"  
  
"of course they're real, draco."  
  
"i don't know whether or not to believe you."  
  
"feel them, then, if you don't believe me."  
  
draco raised hands, grinning, and cupped two handfuls. "wow." he said, giving his approval. he gave them a curious squeeze. "they're very soft." he mumbled, stupidly. crabbe and goyle snickered, a little enviously. as though they were living vicariously through draco's two hands.  
  
pansy smacked his hands away. "right. you've felt them. get off me."  
  
  
sometime after that she left, leaving draco and his henchmen to their own devices. they wandered around, and even ran into harry potter, a mousy boy with ratty tatty glasses and unkempt hair. to be truthful, draco had sought him out, going from car to car, seeing who was who. a middle eastern boy with pretty eyes introduced himself as 'blaise' and offered to smoke a black, sticky bit of opium with them.  
harry was actually very hard to find that first time, but draco would get better at it in years to come.  
  
  
*  
  
"you know what father's just told me? i'll be in the same year as harry potter." he complained, disgusted. "i can't believe this. god damnit."  
  
narcissa looked at draco. "where did you learn that word?" she asked, surprised. "i'm eleven, mum. i've known that word since i was eight."  
  
"your eleven already? oh." she smiled. "your growing up so fast, darling."  
  
draco hardly listened. he was still wallowing in his sheer disappointment of having to share a *school* with the boy who had brought the fall of the dark lord, the end of the revolution.   
  
"it's going to ruin *eveything*. my entire life is going to.." he paused, "*suck* because of him." he said, dramatically.  
  
"nonsense, draco. he's no match for you."  
  
"i know." he agreed.  
  
"and who knows.. you two might even end up being friends. i don't know if you've thought of this or not, but there's a fair chance that boy might end up in slytherin."  
  
  
*   
  
although narcissa only suggested this hypothetical once, it stuck with draco and sometimes he let himself imagine just what that might be like, to be friends with the boy who lived.  
  
it was almost perverse, the way this idea charmed him. they would practice all sorts of tricky, dangerous magic together and be great wizards. they'd be popular. girls would *love* them - girls with chests ten times bigger than pansy's.. girls who liked to have *sex*...  
  
  
  
  
  
that unfriendly conversation they shared on the hogwarts express had not been an entirely truthful encounter. sometime after draco had left the shop, it occured to him just who that boy in the robes shop probably was.  
  
and so draco offered him a hand in friendship...  
  
  
  
  
the rejection had been deeply humiliating. after all, draco was an important person. he was respected. he had a powerful father. he was a *malfoy*. why wouldn't harry want to be his friend...?   
  
draco couldn't help himself. so he persisted.  
  
later it embarrassed him to think back on how he'd acted... he must have been so obvious. he wondered, could everyone else tell how badly he'd wanted harry's attention? but harry had taken up with the urchin weasley and now draco was sure there was no way they would ever be friends. but that was alright, because he soon learned that he would end up being the next best thing:  
  
harry's enemy.  
  
  
*  
  
...that was also the year it had rained. draco had sat in that sad little boat, scowling. he really wouldn't have minded if it had been a little bit of rain- a nice, gentle drizzle can be very pleasant. but this was no such thing.   
  
"it's like god is *pissing* on us."  
  
it was miserable. and to top it all off, pansy's nipples were rock hard beneath her clothes. crabbe and goyle were sitting on the seat before them, looking down at their shoes as rain pelted the backs of their necks. they wouldn't see if he..   
  
draco let one hand trace the supple curve of her breast admiringly. pansy looked at him with, blushing. "just what do you think your doing?" she took his hand in her own and for a wild moment, hormones draco, thought she was going to bring her fingers to her mouth  
  
"can't i just play with them a little?" he whispered, to keep crabbe and goyle from hearing.   
  
she turned to look at him, her face as stormy as the skies above. raindrops had collected on her eyelashes and her mouth was pink.. glistening. wet.  
  
"please? they're very lovely. i just want to feel them once more. i'm curious." she rolled her eyes.  
  
"well it's not like i've got a pair of my own or anything!" he cried in exasperation.  
  
  
*  
  
the sorting that year had been a cold, wet affair. sitting at the slytherin table, he waited for harry to be sorted into his house. it *had* to happen. it was meant to be. wasn't it? he wasn't really a-  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
draco's mind had been clicking along so quickly that he failed to realize harry was being sorted. he looked up, stunned. the great hall erupted into applause, and the gryffindor table was the loudest of them all. draco didn't stand up, and he didn't clap. draco sat very still and had a long, hard think. 


End file.
